


dreaming of paradise (couldn't love you more if i tried)

by merwinist



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Comments are love, Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Pre-Slash, Schmoop, Slice of Life, Sort Of, i have a longer merwin fic i'm stalled on and i wanted a smaller piece, inspired by a song, is what i had on repeat while i wrote it, moonlight loving, shameless self indulgence, swimming in the moonlight by bad suns, this is really just kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 14:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19889440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merwinist/pseuds/merwinist
Summary: A quiet night leads to a revelation.





	dreaming of paradise (couldn't love you more if i tried)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anarchycox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/gifts).



> I'm gifting this to anarchycox because they're a very prolific merwin writer and I read quite a few of their fics before dipping my toes into writing it myself!! hope you like it <3

Six months after V-Day, the world has only just barely stopped blazing. Kingsman agents have been running ragged to stabilize governments and prevent hostile takeovers by crime syndicates. Eggsy’s jetlag has jetlag. And to top it all off, he’s not technically an agent yet because they don’t even have an Arthur to ratify his commission, so he’s been working with no guarantee of a future at the agency. He’s not sure he cares, though. Merlin won’t hang him out to dry when the time comes — he hopes. If the new Arthur is just as much of a prick, he may not be made a full agent, but he thinks Merlin will probably keep him on as a handler or something. Maybe he could oversee training, since they’re going to have to fill three spots at the table either way.

  
He’s not sure he wants the Galahad seat. Harry had been angry when he’d left, had said terrible things, but beyond that Eggsy isn’t sure he can handle that legacy hanging over him. Depending on the day and how much sleep he’s gotten, he waffles back and forth between refusing to allow anyone else to have the name and not wanting anything to do with it.

  
Right now he’s exhausted, bruised from an extraction mission in Sri Lanka that hadn’t gone quite to plan, and yet he still can’t sleep. So, he’s laying on the roof of the country house that hides Kingsman HQ in its basement and staring at the stars. London’s light pollution is such that he’s never seen so many. Whether or not he’s actually allowed on the part of the roof he’s claimed as his own… Well, Merlin hasn’t said anything yet. It’s fairly out of the way; Eggsy has to use several parkour tricks to get to the parapet he’s currently dangling a leg off of. He doubts anyone really has the time to care; he’ll be back on a mission as soon as his ribs stop grinding together with every breath, and it’s the same for every other active agent.

  
“Enjoying the stars this evening, lad?” comes the reassuring brogue that has been with him through so much, always in his ear. Even when they’re half a world apart, Merlin always has Eggsy’s back. Even when Eggsy fucks up, Merlin helps him fix it. Sure, he might rant and threaten dismemberment, but he’s never truly vitriolic. Not like Harry had been right before… Well, before.

  
“Aye,” Eggsy responds quietly. “I don’t know none o’ the fancy stories, but I do like bein’ able ta trace the lines.” The first time he’d disappeared to the roof Merlin had noticed, of course. Software that identified constellations and stars had been added to his glasses without fanfare, but he had known who to thank. It’s just one more little way Merlin has helped Eggsy stay sane in an extraordinarily tumultuous time. “What’re ya up ta tonight? Any active missions?”

  
Since the conversation started on a casual tone, there’s probably not anything high stakes going on, but it never hurts to ask. He doesn’t want to distract Merlin and get another agent killed, as much as he does enjoy the Scot’s time and attention. Probably more than he should, he thinks as a light blush dusts across his cheeks. He’s glad there’s no one else around and that the glasses don’t have cameras pointing at him.

  
There’s a tuneless hum accompanied by a few swift keystrokes in the background. “Not too much, actually. Lancelot just landed in Jakarta and is getting settled in tae her accommodations. Agravain’s dearest wish is tae never see Pyongyang again, after struggling with the North Korean power vacuum.”

  
Eggsy laughs at that. “He shoulda thought o’ that when he was learnin’ Korean.” It was a bit of a running joke that Agravain was easily aggravated.

  
“That’s what I told him,” Merlin agreed dryly. “Sadly, nobody listens tae the wee sad techie in his cave.” The put-upon sigh is almost entirely false, but there’s a small note of sincere exasperation.

  
“If they don’t appreciate the genius o' your wizardry, that’s their problem,” says Eggsy firmly. “We’re all pulling triple-time; I’m doin’ me best to pick up a new language but ya know it ain’t as easy as all that.”

  
Something in his chest goes warm and liquid when he’s praised. “Ye’re doing better than anyone could ask, given the circumstances, Eggsy. I’m sure some of these stuffed shirts would be drowning in yer shoes. Lamorak especially,” the older gent teases conspiratorially.

  
“When is he goin’ ta retire, anyways?”

  
He can almost hear Merlin’s frustrated head shake of disgust. “Even if V-Day hadn’t happened, he’d probably have stuck on until he got himself killed. As it is, I’m only sending him on milk runs I don’t want tae waste better agents on.”

  
A snort escapes Eggsy as he lets his head roll toward the angled rooftop. “Has he got his own handler just ta wake him up when he drops off?” he jibes. The laughter that rings from the glasses makes a smile stretch across his own face. He loves making Merlin laugh; the man is far too stressed, since he’s basically holding the agency together with shoestrings, gum, and prayers. “Promise you’ll shoot me afore lettin’ me get that far inta me dotage.”

  
“Ye’d better nae expect me tae stuff ye,” is the quippy retort. The reference to Harry is one only Merlin could get away with. Even Roxy can’t bring up the dead man without Eggsy shutting down — but it’s different, with Merlin. Those two had been friends long before Eggsy had even known about Kingsman, but the Scot never makes him feel like his shorter acquaintance with the suave gentleman was any less meaningful. He shares stories of their glory days, narrating so well Eggsy can almost see the shenanigans. It makes him feel like Harry isn’t quite gone, as long as there are people who remember what a ridiculous peacock he was.

  
“Not even if I ask really, _really_ nicely?” The innuendo slips out before Eggsy really thinks about it, his voice dropping flirtatiously. They do this sometimes, in the dark of night. He would never hold Merlin to it, knows it’s probably just innocent banter, but it still gives him a thrill when Merlin responds in kind.

  
There’s a longer pause than normal tonight, though. Just enough that ice runs down his spine as he thinks he’s finally crossed the line he’s been toeing since _‘whisper it in my ear.’_ His sharp inhale echoes through the night, a gunshot gasp, and he’s just started to scramble for an apology when Merlin’s dark, silky response comes through the line. “Mebbe. Depends on how prettily ye beg fer me…”

  
Eggsy returns his gaze to the stars, trying not to let the tremor that runs through him show on the glasses feed. His cheeks feel like a brush fire. They’ve been dancing around this for so long, it seems, that he doesn’t quite know how to move forward, what to say. He wishes he could scream-text Roxy for advice, even knowing he’d have to put up with her smug superiority for all time. Eventually, he swallows heavily and nods a bit. “I could — I could do that.”

  
The moon seems huge suddenly, a celestial witness to Eggsy’s dreams manifesting. “I…” Not sure what he wants to say, he lets out a frustrated breath and runs his hand over his face, pushing the glasses up to his forehead for a moment. “Merlin, ya know this ain’t an idle fancy for me, yeah? So, if ya don’t mean it, or if you’re just lookin’ for some fun… I ain’t the one.” As much as he wishes he could just take what Merlin would give him, even if it’s just some really fantastic sex, Eggsy can’t. Hiding his feelings would become too messy, and he doesn’t want to lose what they have right now. The friendship is worth more than meaningless, but doubtlessly brilliant, shags.

  
When Merlin responds, it’s in a tone Eggsy has never heard before. Serious, but soft. Reassuring as always, of course, but intimate in a way it never is when a mission has gone tits up. “Eggsy, lad, I’m a Scot. We dinnae do flights of fancy.” A bit of mischief seeps in. “We might break like Stonehenge if we tried tae be anything other than dour killjoys.”

  
Eggsy laughs, as he was meant to, and the tension dissipates. “Ya should come up here and share the moonlight with me,” he suggests on an impulse. “M’sure you’ve been at your desk for longer than any reasonable person should be. Morgana will prolly be breathin’ down your neck about takin’ a break soon anyway.” If they’re going to have this conversation, finally, he wants it to be face to face. He wants to be able to kiss the man after they sort out what exactly it is they’re trying. He wants to look into his eyes and see the starlight reflected back.

  
He wants it all, and for once he thinks he might just get it.

**Author's Note:**

> You can see the banner I made for this story [over on my tumblr!](https://queerjonmund.tumblr.com/post/186433348728/dreaming-of-paradise-by-queerjonmund-enjoying)


End file.
